Within Eridanus, beneath the copious amounts of ferns and moss that flourished. There was an Opal, small and oval in its shape. Predominantly white, its green and blue speckles dancing throughout as it glistened under the morning dew. Shimmering beneath the strong ferns that kept it just out of harms way. Ever so slightly pulsating with what life grew within.

He knew not what was outside, nor did he care to find out. Spending what to him was his entire life sleeping in the warmth and protection that was home. Soft echos and mumbled words of those who came close to discovering the miracle that would soon emerge. All these sounds, the undying music and knowledge he soaked up. He felt one with the earth, and he knew no differently. He was fed rapid pictures of thoughts and dreams. Of the world outside that was wild and green. He could comprehend none of this, but it brought what he would come to know as joy.

The confines of this world were growing smaller and smaller, and with each passing day he knew he would have to leave. He could no longer remember a time before now. Just faint snippets of thoughts? If one could call them thoughts at all. All he knew was that he merely was, and it did not matter what. He could feel the same beat in his own body so he knew he had to be something. Pounding in rhythm with the egg and that of outside. He could see faint shadows through his opalescent walls. He could see, but not as before. This was not rapid, this was constant?

Flexing his limb, his palm against the wall he watched what he soon processed as his own. It was time, he was not afraid, not in a rush. He could remember snippets from before? Snippets that unknowingly readied him for now. He hit the wall, pulling his arm back to repeat this action. Each hit harder than the last. Till finally a small crack formed down the side. It was now dark in his world, the only light poured from the hairline that led outside. Small fingers pushing out the small fracture till all he had was a very small hole. Small hand reaching out trying to pull the shell inside, could he even finish the job?

/roll

He pulled with his little arms and pushed out with his legs. And with a loud CRACK he was free! Sitting in what was left of his small egg he observed the ferns above. This was a thousand times better than what he could recall being show in the time before. Everything was so vibrant, the sounds were no longer muffled! The chirps and clicks of any and all animals near and far. This was exuberant!
"Speech."

@Booker

Red. The word had been slowly spinning in his mind all day - or had it been more than a day, now? less? - and it didn't seem to be going away. Paws clumsily stumbled across mud, roots, over rocks and through streams, the water rushing up to his head causing nothing more than an irritated flinch. Booker's fur was clumped together with dried blood and muck, pawpads itchy from the red. No matter what he did, the red wouldn't seem to go away. After a while, he stopped trying.

The Maw of Mosses was beautiful, nothing like Polaris, but it was red too, at least back where - well. Back there. But, then, where was there? Everything seemed foggy, displaced and disorienting, from the dappled sunshine dancing about on the ground to the soft rustle of wind. Something was wrong, or had been wrong, Booker was sure of it, but what, he couldn't say. No matter how much he tried, nothing came to mind - no names, no faces, nothing but red.

Still, the soft mist of dew in the air and on the leaves worked to soothe him, slowly wearing away at the gore stuck to his fur. The numbat stopped, stuck on the thought - gore? Staring down at his paws, he saw that they were, indeed, quite red, but it certainly wasn't his own. Had there been someone...? Closing his eye, the tiny Gembound tried to focus on the quickly fleeting memory, only catching a glimpse of a small, still body.

Wrenching his eyes open with a gasp, Booker dry heaved, shaking his head to try and go back to the fog of before. "Oh." The word was soft, like a revelation. It was coming back to him, now, how heavy the smell of blood had been, how the tiny foal he'd helped welcome into the world was - well. He didn't know how she was, now. They were wrong, anyhow. If there was a murderous dragon out there, the one that had given him the fading burn marks on his back, there could certainly be another, no matter how much they thought it was Baratheon.

Booker continued on his way a little more steadily, trying to recall how, exactly, he'd ended up here. He'd left - fled, like a coward - the battlefield as soon as he could. After all, he wasn't a healer. All he had were words and... what? Mushrooms? Neither could help little Delphine now. Another wave of nausea, but nothing to puke up. The numbat crept through the underbrush, wandering aimlessly, hoping that it would soon become apparent as to what he'd been hunting for in the first place. The other dragon? What he could do? He couldn't avenge the foal he'd had no role in defending. Had he been looking for Baratheon?

The thought made him giggle, the sound a bit off, too breathy. "How'd I lose a giant dragon?" Another burst of laughter, and then - a noise, a loud crack! from nearby. Booker froze in place, ears twitching this way and that, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. He squinted - hadn't he had something to help him see, before? "Oh dear," he mumbled, patting around his waist for the cord of the monocle. It was still there, thankfully, cold metal soothing his nerves, and he twisted the glass piece up to his eye, immediately focusing on what looked to be a chrysalis.

It looks like mine, he wondered, gazing at the opaline egg with a tiny smile. If there was anything that could bring him out of this hazy funk, unlock the door to whatever had happened to get him here and now, it would be the brightness of a new life being born into the world. The numbat trotted over to the broken-open gemstone, leaning up to place delicate paws on the edge, peering down into the nest with a soft grin. The tiny being inside looked even smaller than him! "Hello, little one. Welcome."

Small crimson fingers wrapped over the shell's edge and Diot looked up expectantly. He was greeted by a rather interesting looking character. His eye had something coming out of it? And they looked exhausted was that the word? Or was that how someone was suppose to look? All Diot could do was stare wide-eyed at this stranger. He was so much larger than Diot. But little did he know that he wasn't that large himself. And what was that thing on his face too? It didn't look like anything else Diot has seen in nature. But yet again he was so new to this world.

'Hello, little one. Welcome.'

Kind words and such a sweet tone was more than enough to have Diot smile in ease! Sitting up he peered over the egg's edge and looked the stranger over. "h-hello?" His voice soft and unsure of the words he chose. This was all so new but very exciting! Even though he wasn't running around or screaming with this emotion he was very focused. And this stranger was very, very interesting.

"Who are...you?" Hoping out of the shell completely he looked up at him, one hand grasping his own tail like a security blanket. Eyes darting around the Numbat's form and back to his own body. Occasionally rubbing his own fur and reaching out to touch his new friend. They both felt similar? But they were different, this was interesting to him. Upon his curiosity he touched the redder portions of his fur as well. Tilting his head when it remained on his palm. It was sticky? He gave it a quick lick only to begin spitting it out. It tastes wrong, very wrong. It was old?

"wet???...Red? bad?"

Diot stopped as if he knew what it was, only to smile visibly and begin rubbing more red on himself. Maybe it wasn't food but fur color instead! Monkey see monkey do would be the best guess as to why he was doing this. Maybe he was trying to feel closer to his new friend?

Booker grinned down at the tiny Gembound, the expression still just a bit too dazed to be all there. "'m Booker," he murmured, keeping his voice low and as soothing as it could be, given the numbat's own hazy emotional state. Lowering himself back to the ground and watching as the newborn hopped out of his chrysalis, Booker huffed in amusement at the feeling of tiny hands reaching out to push and pull at his short, wiry fur. "Little one, what are yo-"

RED. It was on the little one's hands, staining them, and distantly Booker heard the tiny creature asking about the blood, but the words sounded warped, as if he were underwater. Red? Bad? The numbat's vision shifted, tiny flickers of light at the corners of his gaze, the green of foliage darkening to burned blackness, the smell of smoke thick in his throat.

Only the fuzzy vision of the baby - just like Delphine and Khloros, you'll kill this one, too, leave him while he's still breathing - smearing his own fur with the dried blood managed to wrench Booker out of the spell, loud ringing in his ears remaining. "No, little one, it's b-bad!" The tone was harsh with fear, and with wide eyes, the numbat hurried closer to his charge, working with shaking paws and a tiny pink tongue to wash away the red.

The iron felt heavy on his tongue, like fire down his throat, like acid in his gut - but he couldn't let the notBaratheonhewouldn't dragon find them both covered in the gore of one of its kills. They'd be sitting ducks - or, well, even more so than they were already, two miniature beasts in a world of giants. Focusing determinedly on the baby, Booker shot him another gentle smile, though this one was rougher around the edges. "It's all-right. We'll just get cleaned up and then we can... ah, move somewhere nicer," he mumbled, eyeing the open space around them.

"And you can tell me your name."

@Diot

'No, little one, it's b-bad!'

While the small child did not know fear the tone in the Numbat's voice was enough to cause him to withdraw his little hands. Eyes wide he was now a reflection of Booker. Observing the numbat quickly and trying to wash off the red from his palms. He was shaking, what was wrong?

Hoping for reassurance and just standing there clueless he too began to clean his own free arm where he had rubbed the red. Using that free palm to pick and rid of what could only be described as crusty bits of red on the numbat's fur. Looking up to the shaking numbat he stopped licking his arm, focusing on the gentle smile he was given in this confusing time.

Listening to his determined but shaky words he followed, wiggling only a few of his fingers as they were free of the red.

'And you can tell me your name.'

Name? Oh! name! Was that what he said earlier? Book...Booker. Did he himself have a name? Scrunching his face in concentration eyes shut he sounded out the first words that came to mind. One that he felt he knew in the before time.

"D...D...Di...Dio??? Diot!! Name Diot!! My name is Diot! B-b-booker!"

With happiness and enthusiasm he raised both his arms only to see what red was left on his elbow. Why did he rub it on as many places at once! Small child unknowing of what events would soon come.

The less red there was, the more Booker calmed down, and soon he was breathing in slow and deep, focused on cleaning the child up as much as he could. The numbat shot the newborn another gentle smile when he felt the grooming returned, almost embarrassed - he'd never felt this kind of overwhelming need to protect before, not even with Khloros. Perhaps he'd been too young, then, to appreciate just how vulnerable baby Gembounds were. Now, he knew very, very well.

The smile broke out into a grin when the little one's name was announced, and he stopped grooming for a moment, subtly inspecting the babe for any more of the blood, before reaching out to run a newly-cleaned paw over the gem that rested in the middle of his forehead, so similar and yet so different from Booker's own. "Diot," he repeated softly, voice warm and more solid than it had been. "What a lovely name. It fits you," he added, stepping back a bit with an approving nod.

When his... what? Friend? No, that was too loose a term for something this important; he considered Khloros his charge, of sorts, taking the blame for the foal being left in Polaris when the red came... though this was a different red? It felt hotter than the other, tasted of smoke rather than iron. Booker shrugged it off, eyeing Diot's elbow and leaning forward to groom the last of the blood off. No, this was more, like his bond with Baratheon. Brother? Even that fell short.

Son. The term flashed through his mind, and the numbat huffed, unsettled. No. Charge. Too unreliable to be a father. You'd run, leave him to the red, just like the others. Booker sat back on his rump, soothing down the fur he'd cleaned with a sigh and another attempt at a more relaxed expression. "Diot. There's... hm. There's something out, in the forest," he tried to explain - which was rather difficult, when he forgot and remembered things as quickly as the wind moved through the trees. "We need to get to a safe place."

The juvenile glanced about, finally focusing on a shrub, bearing thick leaves and small berries, its roots branching out beneath the miniature canopy. "Follow me," he asked, patting Diot's shoulder and turning to scurry towards the bush, sniffing around its roots before picking a suitable spot. The soil was looser here, easier to move, and so he began to dig, shoveling dirt out of the way. A few minutes later, and a burrow had been formed - shallow, but filled with damp earth and darkness, as good a hiding place as any.

He turned back to his newborn charge with a relieved grin, motioning to the opening. "We should be safe in here. The mud will make us harder to find," he explained, "and we can get out of... uh..." He couldn't very well say out of danger, not to a baby. "Out of the sun! It's rather hot out," he covered with a flick of his ears, moving to begin to pat the mud down over his still lightly-stained legs.

@Diot

Smile grew wide as Booker complimented him, he was so happy. Though slightly curious as to what the numbat was looking at. Bringing his small hands up and rubbing his own face he felt fur, but then something cool and smooth. He could feel it, so it was part of him. Was it like Booker's eye? Why was his in another place? What was its purpose? Did it have a name?

Booker had licked clean the remaining red that stained his elbow. Happily he sat back mimicking the numbat, grabbing his own tail and pulling it to his face keeping it close. 'There's something out, in the forest' There was many things in the forest, just look at all the ferns! Diot was a bit confused. Was it something bad?

'We need to get to a safe place' Safe, the word flashed through his mind. Safe was good! Safe was like the before time right? He followed Booker's lead. Watching him burrow the soft soil. Diot grabbing a handful or two and throwing them aside, he was helping! Listening to Booker explained he nodded along, mouthing each word with his focus entirely on the numbat.

"Safe safe safe!" He wiggled down into the soil, covering his legs. With each handful opening his palm watching the soil fall onto himself. It was cool, damp and smelled nice! Happily patting it down he looked up to Booker. "Safe now?"

@Booker

He'd smelled him. The scent strong and overpowering even that of the blood. The blood he'd spilled of the foal. The foal's blood was enchanting, intoxicating... but the other smell of him. It brought fear. It brought guilt. It brought emotions that his current self wanted nothing of. Rage, feral joy, hunger, lust... That was all he wanted. Fear and guilt were foreign concepts. He'd wanted to get away from it, wanted to go far away... but he couldn't. It brought him back. Not the horse but another smell of blood. The blood from his kill, he had wanted to lick it up but when he returned, crouching in the grass to stay hidden. He was there... The one that brought the fear and the guilt. That scent... No other smell besides blood affected him so greatly. Why did this? His lips lifted into a silent snarl as he watched the nervous creatures. This was obvious prey but why couldn't he pounce? Why couldn't he devour? Kill? Destroy? It was a mystery... He hated it... The weakness within him that he brought. He was a dragon. He should not feel fear and guilt.

So... in morbid fascination he followed. He kept to the shadows, kept to the grass, kept silent like a true hunter.

He brought him to hatching creature but nothing could get him away from the numbat. Among the shadows he watched the scene with savage eyes, uncomprehending of the words. All he knew were scents and actions. He could smell the old blood on the newborn and as the babe smeared himself his eyes slowly turned to it with a little more interest. More prey... Wanted it... Devour it... Can't because of him. Eyes back to the numbat. Rage. Who did he think he was? Before he'd felt the weakness when he'd scented him but there was none now. Had he caught him off guard? Yes. That had to be it. He should kill him.

Can't. Why?

Questions with no answers. His logical self was hidden and he had no way to think things through. He only wanted action... What sort of action?

Attack! Can't. He is there...

Through the red mist he watched the pair, the red monkey soaked in the delicious liquid began to clean it off. Frustration. A low growl formed in his throat as he sat hidden... Tail flicked in agitation as they began to dig a tunnel.

Kill... Kill... MUST KILL!

He needed to do something. He was still around, down in the tunnel. The dragon didn't want to touch him didn't even want to be around him but a morbid interest held him. He wanted to run... but he wanted to eat it. Wanted to hide... but wanted to destroy.

Pink smoke erupted from his nostrils, fangs bared while claws dug into the earth. No more indecision... A dragon had no indecision, only actions. Kill the newborn... Kill the fear-bringer if it came down to it or snatch the newborn and run. No... Running is weakness. But him.

No more hesitation!

A fierce, angry roar erupted from his throat as he rose from his full height. No longer was he hiding, he was tired of hiding from the numbat. He wanted to eat! He wanted to rip things apart. He would start with the newborn.

With that he thundered forward to their hiding spot and began to dig with his sharp pink claws. Feral snarls erupted from his throat while his red eyes glared hatred. No long could that thing inside him hold him back from him. He would kill all things that gave him fear!

---

words: 606
tagged: Booker, Diot
ooc: ---
muse: 8/10

"Speech"
Thoughts

@Booker
@Diot

No sooner had Booker turned to his tiny newborn charge to drag him further back into the burrow, behind the numbat, than a deep, guttural roar split through the air like a lightning bolt. He pushed back against Diot, to the farthest back wall of the tiny hideaway, eyes wide and breath picking up, soon becoming panicked wheezes. No, no, no! How could it find me that quickly? Had it been following him this whole way, from the red to here? The soft inhale and exhale behind him served as a focus, and Booker crouched low, ears pinned back, baring his teeth and chattering. Not again. I won't lose another child.

The thunderous sounds of heavy paws hitting ground rocketed towards the burrow, and within moments sharp talons were at the door, digging away at the entrance... but Booker was frozen once again. Pink. Pink claws. No. But when the beast lowered its head to peer inside, he knew. Glazed with red and hatred, hunger, those eyes still only belonged to one dragon, not some mystical vision he'd tried to cook up. "Baratheon." The name was whispered out, watery, and Booker squeaked when a stray claw nearly caught his shoulder, darting around for an escape. No time to think, just go!

Nothing. There was nothing - he hadn't had time to dig an escape route, and the only way out was through a hungry dragon. He and his charge were both too small to do any damage to... it, and he'd never be able to follow through with it, anyhow. The mushrooms. The thought came up like a flash, a flare among the fog currently permeating his mind, and Booker faced the dragon once more, trying to push Diot into the back corner of the burrow. He hissed and chattered, reaching out to pretend to bat at the dragon, all the while focusing the rest of his energy on awakening the spores stuck to his coat.

post roll:
And... nothing. Nothing. His friends didn't recognize him, his connection cut off along with his memories, and Booker shook, fear and adrenaline making his eyes water. I'm going to die. It wasn't news, but it was the first time the numbat had thought it in a long time, since the first round of red, the one that sent embers racing up his back. In his hunched position, the scars pulled, and an idea hit him fast. Spinning around, the tiny Gembound faced Diot, expression calm, at peace. "Diot, little one, I need you to stay here. Stay right here, and don't leave until I come back, not unless you really need to." The words were low and quick, and Booker turned back to the visage of his brother, staring.

He almost wanted to say... something, some comfort for the dragon if he did indeed perish in the fight, to let him know it wasn't Baratheon's fault, that it was the disease, the one that had stained his soft eyes red with hunger. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely noticeable over his brother's snarls of outrage. With that, he was off, running straight towards Baratheon, racing over a waving claw and under another, heading for the dragon's back legs, hoping to climb up them and distract the hunter from Diot's presence.

@Diot
@Baratheon

Following Booker eagerly into the back of the burrow only to freeze under the sound of that guttural roar. What he would come later to describe as fear rang through his being. So young he could barely grasp concepts of what he absorbed in the before time. But this, this was something much more. Nature told him to run, get away, never return, that he was not safe.

Frozen he couldn't move, what could he even do other than attempt to run. There was no way out, and what about Booker? The Numbat was trying his best, trying to protect not only his own hide but him as well. Pink claws dug through the soil and all he could do was grip his tail fearfully. Eyes glazed over with hunger and hatred from unknown concepts to the child stared down the burrow. He could not breathe, frozen he shut his eyes. Hoping maybe it would go away. Booker pushing him back protectively for his own legs were of no use, he was frozen.

Only till he heard the Numbat speak did he open his eyes. Wet and wide from rampaging emotions. He watched the calm Gembound talk of something that was very important. And that was to stay, to stay here to be safe. To stay here till he came back? Where was he going?! Certainly not out towards the aggressor?! Right!?

He was wrong, as soon as Booker had comforted him he had ran straight to the pink claws and ravenous teeth outside. He was alone now but he had to stay. He was told to stay by Booker, but nature told him to run. Shoving his body as far into the soil behind him he shut his eyes. Heart racing as pictures of that of the before time raced through his mind. Nature would keep him safe. Booker would keep him safe. He had to stay.

/ROLL

Curling up in fetal position, tail wrapped around his body like a scarf, his opal glowed. Small plants beneath began to sprout and pulled him farther through the Earth. Farther into nature, wrapping loosely around his body it embraced him. Small thorns grew outward from the vines, mimicking that of his fear. He would be alright. He will be safe. Booker will save him. Nature will keep him safe.

@Booker
@Baratheon